


post tenebras lux

by alykapedia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon, sort of idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16901661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: “Which skater would you say has inspired your skating the most?”The question catches him unaware, so much so that he’s rendered speechless. It’s only when he sees Yakov lean towards the microphone to answer in his stead that Yuri blurts out the first name that comes to mind.“Yuuri Katsuki.”





	post tenebras lux

**Author's Note:**

> we can post this now so aaaa have something i wrote/crammed back in UH february written for edge of glory zine back when i did't want to sell yuri plisestky to satan for one corn chip hhhhhh

The roar of the crowd is deafening and Yuri is officially sick of it. 

He’s sick of the screaming, the yelling, the flash of a million cameras blinding him, and a million more eyes looking on at him expectantly like he’s some kind of circus animal that’s supposed to do a trick. He’d hated it back when he was just a novice, and he hates it now that he’s in juniors, and Yuri has absolutely no doubt that he will hate it when he moves on to the senior division. He’d rather collapse onto his bed and call his grandpa than spend another minute here -- surrounded by annoying reporters who only ever ask the same three questions over and over again. 

“How does it feel to win?”

_ Fucking fantastic obviously. The fuck kind of question is that? _ Yuri thinks scathingly, before robotically reciting, “It feels very good to have my hard work pay off.” 

“What’s it like representing Russia?”

_ Like someone’s breathing down your neck and threatening to throw you out into the streets if you don’t make it to the podium. In other words, it’s absolutely terrible and I fucking hate it, thanks. _ This one’s harder to answer with a straight face, especially when he’s reminded of terse meetings with FFKKR officials. “I’m very honored to be representing my country and I can only hope that I’ve made everyone proud.” 

“Are you gearing up to be the next Viktor Nikiforov?”

_ Fuck no. _

It’s the last question that always gets him. Has him baring his teeth in a move that everyone and their grandmothers like to mistake for a smile when it’s really a grimace. Has him almost,  _ almost  _ deviating from the set of rehearsed answers that Yakov has him memorize before every press conference and telling every snooty reporter just what the hell he thinks about being compared to Viktor Nikiforov.

And this time is no different, because as soon as the question leaves the mouth of some faceless reporter, Yuri is sneering, face twisting into disgust. But unlike all the other times before, the polite response that Yakov’s drilled into his head refuses to come out of his mouth, because he’s suddenly sick of his efforts being disregarded and treated as some attempt to become Viktor’s replacement. He’s left scoffing derisively into the microphone, mouth overflowing with scathing words --  _ Why would I want to be the next falling star? _ \-- but before he can let them out into the world, Yakov is sliding the microphone away from him.

“Next question, please.”

 

.

 

Contrary to what it may seem, Yuri doesn’t actually hate Viktor. 

Yuri  _ resents _ him, sure, but he doesn’t  _ hate _ Viktor.

He resents Viktor for being Russia’s Golden Boy—

—resents him for being the standard that every single skater worth their salt is supposed to aspire to be—

—resents him for not fading away into the background even when he’s obviously past his prime—

—resents him for all that he stands for: the fame, the glamour, the entire pomp and circumstance; a big old sham.

But Yuri doesn’t hate him. 

( _ “You can win even without doing quads. I’d bet money on it.” _ )

Because hating Viktor would mean that Yuri cared about what he thought, would mean that Yuri thought of Viktor as something more than a convenient stepping stone that he can and will use to reach his goal.

( _ “If I win the Junior World Championships without any quads, then choreograph a program just for me!” _ )

And he doesn’t. 

( _ “It’s a deal.” _ )

Not at all. 

 

.

 

He’s stuck in yet another presser and Yuri’s trying to subtly play a game on his phone under the table. From the way Yakov is sighing long-sufferingly, he’s not doing so well at the whole subtle part of the entire endeavor, but Yuri’s already reached his quota for questions today, and won another gold medal besides, so Yakov can deal with it. It’s not as if the reporters are paying any more attention to him, all of them having moved on to interviewing the silver medalist -- a nervy Chinese boy who’d skated to some depressing classical song.

Yuri doesn’t mean to listen or pay any attention to what’s happening around him, but his game’s taking a stupidly long time to load, and he looks up just in time for a red-haired reporter to step to the front and ask the boy beside him, “Which skater has inspired you the most?”

_ Huh. _

Now there’s a question Yuri’s never heard before.

“Well, there’s Cao Bin and Zhang Min, who I have looked up to ever since I started skating,” his competitor says, and the names should probably mean something to Yuri, because everyone else is nodding along, but all he can think of is what he would say if he’d been asked that question, and he comes up with nothing. 

“As well as Stéphane Lambiel,” which, understandable because it’s  _ Lambiel _ . Even Yuri likes Stéphane Lambiel. “Katsuki Yuuri,” the boy continues, and Yuri has to stop himself from nodding along, thinking of Katsuki’s solid +3 GOE step sequences and still-unbroken Junior records.

Aside from the first two names that he didn’t know, Yuri thinks it’s a pretty good set of names, and musters a shred of newfound respect for his competitor.

That is, until he adds, “And Viktor Nikiforov.”

_ Of fucking course. _

 

.

 

_ Not Viktor Nikiforov. _

Not Viktor Nikiforov, that’s what Yuri’s answer would have been.

Yuri thinks about it constantly in the weeks following the last Junior Grand Prix qualifier. The question—“ _ Which skater has inspired you the most? _ ”—following him until St. Petersburg, looming over him like a phantom, and he carries it with him still as he sets out on a chilly November morning towards the Neva. 

Yakov’s banned him from the rink, even going as far as to tell the security guard to kick him out if he shows his face. Seeing as Petrov  _ had _ thrown him out on his ass yesterday when he’d tried to sneak in, Yuri doesn’t bother going to Yubileyni Sports Palace this time around and instead heads for the nearby river bank. The Neva’s frozen by this time of year, the ice thick enough to support Yuri and a few stragglers, and more importantly, no one will be around to tell on him for skating when he’s not supposed to.

It takes him a while to find a relatively smooth patch of ice, but when he does, it’s as if he can breathe again, his newly-sharpened blades carving twin lines on the ice. The cacophony inside his head disappears in a rush, silent for the first time in a long time as he skates along the Neva. 

Yuri glides into the familiar step sequence of his short program, muscle memory guiding him, only to stop halfway when it doesn’t flow as effortlessly as it’s supposed to. He can almost hear Yakov’s scolding as he starts again. He stops and starts, stops and starts, his frown deepening with each failure. By his sixth attempt, Yuri abandons the routine and takes off on a shaky quad toe.

When he lands, he immediately moves into a spiral before starting on a different step sequence, one he’s only seen on screen but somehow made him feel more emotion than anything he’s ever witnessed in person. 

Yuuri Katsuki’s theme for this year is Hope, and normally Yuri would scoff at such a trite theme, but the moment he watches Katsuki’s skate feels like a revelation. The moment he sees Katsuki skate, Yuri thinks, oh,  _ oh _ ,  _ I want to skate like that _ . Because the music felt like it was coming from Katsuki himself. Because for the entirety of those two minutes, Yuri had felt hopeful for the future, for the things yet to come, for the skater he can and will be.

Because he’s not here to be the next Viktor Nikiforov—

—he’s here to be Yuri Plisetsky.

 

.

 

“Which skater would you say has inspired your skating the most?”

It’s an unexpected question, mostly because no one’s ever asked him that before, what with everyone just naturally assuming that it’s Viktor. And why wouldn’t they? Everyone and their mother cites Viktor as their goddamn inspiration.

The question catches him unaware, so much so that he’s rendered speechless. It’s only when he sees Yakov lean towards the microphone to answer in his stead that Yuri manages to talk again, and in his panic, he blurts out the first name that comes to mind when he thinks of inspiration.

“Yuuri Katsuki.”

The cacophony stops, and beside him, Yuri can feel Yakov’s disbelieving stare boring into the side of his head. It only spurs him on, fans the flames licking up his chest, as he remembers the grainy YouTube videos that do nothing to discount or diminish Katsuki’s arresting step sequences and spins. 

“His step sequences are good,” Yuri says, voice firm and sure. The reporter who’d asked the question looks pleasantly surprised at his answer, and Yuri finds himself continuing, heedless of how much Yakov will be yelling at him for this later. “And if the judges stop underscoring him all the time, he’d actually make it to the top of the podium.” 

 

.

 

And then Yuuri Katsuki falls, fails, and makes a fool of himself, and it feels like a fucking slap to the face.

But fine,  _ fine _ . 

_ What-the-fuck-ever. _

Yuri will just have to be better.

He’ll beat Katsuki. He’ll beat Viktor. He’ll beat anyone who stands in his way. 

Yuri Plisetsky will shine brighter than all of them combined.

**Author's Note:**

> look ok yurio's terrible baby crush on yuuri katsuki is a hill i will die on fiTE ME


End file.
